Brothers Lost
by QueenJaegerjaquez
Summary: Two brothers who lived and died together, on the field of war. What was going on in Kili's head, during the moments he was struck down? Can comfort be found in death? Deathfic. One Shot. No Durincest.


Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings, or anything belonging to J. R. R Tolkien. I do not own any of the characters.

This is basically a quick one shot I have attempted, to deal with all my Fili and Kili feels. I just finished reading The Hobbit for the second time and I felt I had to write a short piece about Fili and Kili. I admit, this was rather rushed. But it's my first Hobbit story, so go easy on me, and please no flames. I appreciate any reviews though, or a little criticism. Enjoy!

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Sharp winds whip over the mountainside, lashing at the backs of the rocks and rising over the far streams. Hordes of fierce warriors align themselves, preparing for the events that unfold. Goblins, many in number, crawl from the haunting depths of the Misty Mountains, facing Men, Elves and Dwarves alike.

There is a sudden shift in the way of things. A great tension settles on the land. It is the foretelling of great change, the edge of death and carnage nearing the new battlefield.

Kili has never been in this situation before.

He stands alongside his most trusted companions, his kinfolk. The legendary Thorin Oakenshield, a man regarded as the rightful King Under The Mountain, and his custodian brother Fili. Together they make a fearsome trio, protectors of the mountain, who stand ready to unleash their stern wrath on the wave of horrors before them.

And behind them; ten of the most loyal and strong hearted Dwarves, true patriots to their people, all baring fashioned weaponry and brandishing sharpened swords and axes. These are ones who would willingly offer their lives in service of their king.

A slight shiver, perhaps of anticipation, slinks down his spine. Kili watches as the forces of Men and Elves fold out into the theatre of war. The Dwarves do not make their move yet; they charge at the signal of Thorin, ready to attack only at his word.

It starts very suddenly. The Goblins do not wait for anyone to move first. They steal the moment, rushing forward astride those foul four-legged Wargs, descending into fleets of readied Men. War cries shatter the air, Elves begin marching in from the left, and the cries of battle fill the skies and sink into earth. The ground quakes a little, greeted by the steps of many, and the thudding of huge Warg paws thicken the soils.

Trusted bow in hand and brother by his side, Kili inhales deeply. His hands are flexing, fingers itching for the feel of those arrows between their tips.

War grows around them, and the Dwarves are about to join it. More importantly, the trio are going to conquer those who oppose them – they are going to wipe destruction upon the mass of enemies invading their home.

Perhaps they will sing songs of this day. How the line of Durin, and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, advances bravely unto the Goblin nightmares, cutting them down with splendour. Perhaps Kili, son of Dís, would be one of those mentioned in the songs. Perhaps he would be a hero.

His Uncle raising his gleaming blade, the Orcrist firm in his hand. With a mighty yell, he roars the order, and they spring into combat.

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Kili is secured on either side by Thorin and Fili, who fight valiantly against the overwhelming odds.

The dwarf handles his bow with utmost accuracy, firing arrow after arrow into their undying ranks. The archer's shots are unwavering, many years of childhood practice in every aim. With his companion's blades on his flanks, he is given enough time to launch each arrow with them shielding his sides.

As he draws another arrow, slotting it perfectly along the bow, he sees an Orc approaching from the left. It is in a fine line of sight, the Orc ready to be plucked by his arrow.

The Orc dives for Thorin, accompanied by a vast beastly Warg, which howls in declaration of new found prey.

In immediate defence, Fili leaps to Thorin's side, slashing away the beast while Kili fires at it within mere seconds.

The monster shrieks in pain, infuriated. It stumbles backwards, tail flicking in annoyance as its heavy paws thump the ground. It fixes maddened yellow eyes, in the form of hollowed slits, on Kili. He feels the chilling stare of its vengeful gaze melting into his. The creature begins to circle him.

Thorin is busy fending off the stray Orc, who snarls and clatters blades with the dwarf. His armour serves him well, brushing off some strokes of an axe. But he prevails, stabbing the Orc in the chest.

As the Warg then leaps at Kili, who has equipped himself with his final arrow, Fili instead hurries forward.

A fraternal bond makes the brothers inseparable. From the moment the Warg laid intently eyes on Kili, he had invited Fili's rage. The golden haired dwarf bounds in, like a lion protecting his pride, and cuts down the foe with haste.

Kili exchanges a thankful nod with his elder brother, and they proceed to follow their Uncle further into the throng, who is becoming harder to keep up with in the sea of enemies.

With only one arrow left, Kili fires it at the nearest challenger, and then whips out his sword. His bow is nothing more than a wooden stick now, so reluctantly he tosses it aside, aware there is no time to waste.

Their next competitor is familiar to them, and he glides forth without warning. Kili recognises his pale shadow climbing from the ranks, shouting curses in the Orcish language. He towers above them, heading straight for the one person they must protect: _Thorin._

"Azog," Thorin growls, hands clenching his sword as he sprints forwards.

Kili and Fili follow, raising blades above their heads.

The white Warg carries him, the living nightmare that is Azog the Defiler. The pounding of his mount's paws echo closer on the blood stained earth.

Kili notices a second shape progressing towards them, this time directing itself at his older brother.

Instinctively, he calls out. "Fili!"

The shape may have ambushed Fili if not for Kili's warning. But Fili is alert, and turns to face his attacker as they tousle about.

Swarms of enemies continue to spread, and Kili has lost sight of Thorin. The Pale Orc is nowhere to be seen, either, and Fili is dealing with another close encounter.

Kili rushes to help, reading his brother's movements and preparing to lend aid, but is caught off guard by an unseen foe.

It is nothing more than a blur at first. A whirl of blood and dust.

Something clamps its solid jaws over his chest, teeth and fangs sinking into his soft flesh without mercy. He screams.

The pain is unreal.

It burns. Kili feels stunned, afraid. Pure terror fills his core. A sudden feeling of panic washes over him. The burning sensation covers his body, seeping into his bones.

"_Fili!"_

It's the only word he can think of. The only thing he can do. He screeches the name, begging for some miracle.

Whatever has him in its grasp now shakes him violently, rumbling and sneering as he flails, helpless. His dark hair falls over his eyes, blinding him, and he has nothing to cling to, only his brother's name in his mind.

Then the creature throws him, and Kili cannot move.

He lands with a painful bash. The breath is knocked out of him.

His head feels weighty, and he cannot lift it. His vision is tinted red. There is a scarlet liquid pouring from his ribs, flesh torn and ripped, tendons strung from his body.

As he clings to what consciousness is left, he lays unmoving.

Winged silhouettes are swooping in the sky, spiralling and twisting in the clouds. He watches them for several moments, everything seeming distant, before a gloomy shape trudges over to him.

Someone calls out his name.

"K-Kili!" his voice breaks off when he sees him, unable to comprehend the sight.

It is Fili. The dwarf is matted with blood, arms bleeding and weapons lost. He is panting, face reddened and armour smashed.

The younger whimpers, unable to form full words. "F..F.." His tongue is too thick for his mouth, the taste of blood fresh in his throat.

"You're not dead…Kili…" Fili coughed, one of his hands holding his own ribs.

Only then does the archer see that his elder brother is hurt. Despite standing on two feet, the lighter haired warrior is bleeding, crimson flowing down his torso, spilling into the rocks where Kili lay. His injuries look tender, and harsh.

But Fili manages a smile. It is a hopeful, gentle smile. "You've… done well. Thorin-" he splutters a little, forcing out a cough, "-Thorin would be proud of us."

He brightens at that comment. "Y-Yes.."

Thorin was always proud. No matter how odd Kili's love for bows was, as opposed to axes and swords, or how out of place amongst the other dwarves he seemed, Thorin showed adoration for his nephew.

In fact, Thorin in many ways replaced his absent father. He was their guardian. A fine king, one who took pride in his heirs.

And Thorin was always there. He never failed to rescue them. No matter what. But where is their rescue now?

That is when Fili collapses beside his sibling, gasping for air. He drags himself closer, somehow fitting his head over his younger brother's lap. Yet he still upholds that smile.

Kili's throat runs dry. Behind that heartening smile, he can see a broken soul. Fili is terrified, and he knows it. He is shaking, not just from his wounds, but out of complete fear.

And that scares Kili more than anything.

Seeing his brother in such a desperate state makes his comfort crumble entirely. It fills him with dread. For he has always understood his older brother only too well, and understanding his feelings now was only making him feel much worse.

He manages a small, delicate whisper, and speaks softly. "I'm scared, Fili."

"Don't be. Thorin will protect us, you'll see."

Even if those words weren't true, Kili knew he would still believe them. Maybe he simply _wanted _to believe those words, but because it was his brother who said them, he could.

He wanted to believe that Thorin would save them one last time.

"Now Kili, promise me something."

The younger dwarf strains his head to tilt it, even if just a bit, to look upon his brother. He struggles to choke out his speech. "Y-Yes?"

"Stay…" the blonde's voice falters slightly, "strong. Stay awake."

And that is when Kili questions their quest in his mind. He never had considered that their road might lead them to this. Some sacrifices were necessary, he believed, even for their kingdom. But this was a sacrifice perhaps too great.

"Sing that song," Fili says.

The younger one is bewildered at first. "What song?"

"About the mountains," his brother murmurs. His voice is growing hollowed now, barely holding on. He is weakening, and the blood is drying on his wounds. "Please."

It takes Kili several moments to recall the tune, suddenly feeling warm and reminiscent as he lies on the icy stones with his brother. He summons all his strength, pouring his last words into one final rhythm. He watches as his brother's eyes flutter open and shut, until they finally close.

They lie there, like they did as children by the fire, listening contently. Kili's words begin to slip away. He continues to talk until the words no longer make sense, falling into an endless slumber.

"_Far over the misty mountains cold,_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of day_

_To find our long forgotten gold_

_The pines were roaring on the height_

_The winds were moaning in the night_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread_

_The trees like torches blazed with light_…"


End file.
